


The One Where Sir Leon Gets a Sunburn

by LivingInATimeOf_Myths



Series: Sir Leon the Long Suffering [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone Loves Merlin (Merlin), Fluff and Crack, Fun, Gen, Gwaine is a little shit, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Merlin is a Little Shit, Silly, Sir Leon the Long Suffering, don't worry he'll be fine, it's truth though, just wanted to read his book amongst the honeybees, kind of, merlin what did you do to arthur's horse, my new favorite tag, not today he's not, rip to gaius's floors, this poor guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23626762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingInATimeOf_Myths/pseuds/LivingInATimeOf_Myths
Summary: "Turns out gingers can turn redder, eh Leon?"Pretty much what it says on the tin. Poor Leon never gets enough love, and he puts up with so much. All he wanted was to have a nice walk through the gardens and to read his book. He didn't ask for any of this, and...damnit Arthur, stop leering at your manservant's backside, it isn't princely! Instead of a relaxing day by the fountain, he gets heat stroke and a face to match his gingery locks. Leon is pretty sure the universe hates him, but isn't sure if that's just the pounding in his head talking.Edit: I DID make a series!
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Sir Leon the Long Suffering [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064387
Comments: 53
Kudos: 342





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Leon deserves all the love.

Leon didn’t deserve this. He was kind, he was patient, he had just last week helped Merlin _smuggle baby bunnies_ into the royal chambers _behind_ Arthur’s back, and he rarely lost his temper with anyone. He wore the emblem of Camelot proudly, and vowed to help all he could as a knight. He did his kingdom and his family proud. _He did not deserve this._ Oh, sure, a little sunburn didn’t seem all that bad. Merlin, for one, kept hissing at him that he was being dramatic when he’d tried to drown Gwaine in the fountain. 

No, damnit, he wasn’t being _dramatic,_ he had suddenly realized Gwaine’s hair needed a good wash. Scratch that, the whole _man_ needed a good dunking. For _Camelot’s_ sake. Can’t have a smelly knight wandering around, no, we can’t. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that, for the last week, everyone in this goddamned castle apparently had nothing better to do than pop up in his way to stare in awe at how his face matched his red hair. 

Even the _king,_ in all of his intimidating _ruthlessness_ , had followed him around like a puppy- _chased him around the castle_ until Leon had finally turned to look at him. Leon could count on one hand (two fingers, in fact) the number of times he had seen Uther _giggle,_ and the first was when the king had been rip-roaring drunk and-well, enough said about that, the better. This was unfair. This was _undignified,_ and he wouldn’t stand for it any longer. And the _comments they made,_ they were….Leon shuddered, striding down the hallway towards Gaius’s chambers. 

It had all started when Leon was feeling just a bit tired, just a _little_ , mind you. For the first time in _months,_ nothing was trying to eat, stab, poison, rip apart, or generally _horribly murder_ Arthur. It was a lovely summer day, the sun was shining so gently, and he had just finished a nice walk through the gardens. He happened across one of the decorative fountains near the entrance of the conservatory, and saw a bench. 

As a lover of literature, Leon had just picked up a book from the Lord Geoffrey, a treatise on strategies during battle (look, he enjoyed it, and that’s all that mattered), and decided this seemed a perfect place to sit and read quietly, away from the _idiots_ who usually followed him around like quacking ducklings to a mother bird. No, he decided, feeling the light breeze and the warm shining sun, this would be a perfect place to begin the book. And if he’d happened to fall asleep on this nice warm bench, then who should be the wiser? After all, it was between him and the bees. 

When he woke up, the sun had lowered enough that he figured it was probably late afternoon. He’d slept through the heat of the day, and generally felt refreshed. Well, the skin on his face seemed tight for some reason, and he _was_ feeling the slightest bit overheated, but that was to be expected, considering he had been sitting directly in the sun. Leon kneeled next to the fountain and splashed some cool water on his face. Much better. He gathered up his things and started heading for his chambers, hoping to be able to snag a late lunch from one of the squires always crowding around his rooms.

As he walked back, he noticed a couple of things. First, his face was starting to itch and burn a little. Second, people started _looking_ at him funnily. At first he’d thought maybe it was due to the respect owed him as a knight-in his defense, he was Camelot’s First Knight for a reason. Perhaps the people had finally realized that knights were to be given a certain amount of respect (Merlin notwithstanding, Leon was there when he _backtalked Uther-_ did that boy have a _death wish!?)_. 

Then he remembered Gwaine, and how many times that man had thrown up on (and one, awful, memorable time, _in)_ his shoes in front of these same people at the godsforsaken tavern, and he dismissed that thought. No, any chance of proper boundaries were shot to hell at this point, especially when Percival started _going to the tavern with Gwaine_ and showing off his admittedly impressive muscled arms (did he have to wear his mail without arms? That definitely was not safe. Not safe, and no, Leon was _not_ jealous of either Percival _or_ the maidens he picked up). He only figured out what everyone was staring at when two of his _ducklings_ (Merlin, in a fit of inspired creativity and irritation had started calling them that, and, to Leon’s great horror, the name stuck) passed by.

“Leon? Leon, is that you!” Leon ducked his head down, squared his shoulders, and starting walking just a little bit faster. He had no interest in dealing with Gwaine at the moment. 

“Leon, what’s wrong?” There was Elyan’s voice, soft and concerned, and Leon couldn’t be rude to him, even if he did choose bad company (Leon chose to ignore the voice in his head which pointed out he himself had gone to the tavern with Gwaine not three days prior). Besides, if there was anyone who could soothe the sudden raging headache he had, it was Elyan. The knight had a way with words, and a gentle temperament that could even bring Merlin down from one of his fits of anger at Arthur. 

(What had his world become? He was going to go back home, where things made sense, and servants didn’t yell at princes, and princes didn’t ruffle manservants hair when said manservant didn’t smile for three days….oh gods, Arthur was in love with Merlin. He’d _kept track of his servant’s smiles._ Leon could never leave the two of them alone again.) 

So Leon sighed, stood up straight, and faced the two with a smile. It could have done with a tad less teeth involved, but it was a smile, damnit, and no one could have asked for anything more. 

“What is it? Is everything alright?” See? Even in pain and just wanting to go lie facedown on his bed, Leon was kind and caring. 

Whatever Gwaine was going to say went out the window when instead of “Saddle up, a manticore is trying to eat Arthur,” or “Grab your chainmail, Merlin’s decided to try and fly using a broomstick and Arthur’s favourite shirt” (he was tired, alright? He didn’t need to pretend his fantasies made any sense), there was silence for a good ten seconds. Then, muffled giggling. Then outright snorting. Then straight-up guffawing, from both Gwaine _and_ Elyan. The traitor. 

Still, he only grimaced, and asked, “What is it? What are the two of you going on about?” His head started pounding more forcefully, and he suddenly felt a bit ill.

“Le-Leon, mate,” Gwaine choked out, howling, “I think we should be asking-are _you_ alright?” He’d collapsed against Elyan, who wasn’t doing much better himself, barely able to support himself on his legs. _The fucking traitor._

“Gwaine, I’m not in the mood for any of your games today. Do you have something you need to tell me, or can I _leave?”_ Yes, it was snippy and unbecoming of a knight, but Leon was just so, so tired. 

Suddenly, a shout came from across the courtyard, and Leon closed his eyes in exasperation. 

“Leon! What on earth _happened_ to you?” 

Good gods, it was _Merlin,_ and as much as he cared for the boy, this was _not the fucking time._ He just wanted to collapse in his chambers. He didn’t even need a bed, really, just a closet where he could sleep until his head stopped pounding and his cheeks didn’t feel so hot. 

Leon managed a more genuine smile for Merlin than he’d had for his _ducklings,_ because the boy really did only have everyone’s best interests at heart, and he worked far too hard, and was much too innocent to be subjected to Arthur’s perverted, leering ways, and, oh, _hello ground, so lovely to make your acquaintance._

(Leon, if he’d been awake for it, would have been delighted to see the two idiots _finally shut up_ and dear sweet Merlin rush over to be by his side, bless his heart, honestly the boy deserved better than _Arthur,_ honour-bound though he may have been to protect him)


	2. Chapter 2

The next thing he knew, Leon found himself on a bed with a pain in his head like someone was taking a pickaxe to it. He groaned, and tried opening his eyes and sitting up. _Bad move, idiot,_ both his stomach and his head told him, and he came fully awake only to roll over and vomit on the floor beside his bed. After he’d finished emptying his stomach (blessed be the gods who didn’t allow him to get lunch before he’d passed out), Leon sank back into the mattress, thoroughly exhausted.

“Won’t be trying that again, will we?” A voice came from next to him, and Leon startled, which set his stomach off again. He curled into a ball and set about trying to ensure his head remained upon his shoulders, rather than falling off and bouncing around the room. 

“Shh. Just relax, my boy. Here, drink this,” and Leon’s head was propped up enough for him to swallow something truly revolting. “There. The next time you wake, you will be feeling much improved, I should think.”

Leon tried slitting his eyes open, and saw a glimpse of white hair before the pain became too much and he had to shut them again.

“Gauis?” Though he couldn’t see it, it was indeed Gaius, who smiled down fondly at him and stroked his head soothingly. The gentle movement combined with a cool towel on his neck sent Leon to sleep before he could think to say anything else.

The next time he woke, the knight did indeed feel much better. With Merlin’s help, Leon managed to sit up and look around. 

“Ughh…” Leon managed, then, clearing his throat, tried again. “Wha-What _happened?”_

Merlin looked distinctly irritated when he answered, “You need to train your knights to recognize _heat stroke,_ Leon. Your brain nearly boiled out of your skull, and you fainted on the cobblestones in the square.”

Well. He certainly didn’t _faint,_ that was for...for _fair maidens,_ not _battle-seasoned warriors,_ and he made sure to tell Merlin so. Merlin seemed unimpressed with the _battle-seasoned warrior’s_ verdict, though, and instead bade him to lie down, to which Leon refused. He’d had enough for one day, what with the laughing, and the pointing, and the _fainting._ No. He was going to go to his _own_ chambers, fall asleep under nice cool pillows, and pretend that this day never happened. 

When he relayed this to Merlin, the usually sweet servant (at least to Leon, in any case...Arthur could manage just fine on his own, the _pervert)_ frowned, and what the knights (he would never call them _ducklings,_ damnit, he was a Knight of Camelot and it was beneath him) called ‘Merlin’s stormcloud scowl of doom’ started forming, and Leon’s heart sunk as he realized he was in for it. 

“Yes, _thank you,_ Merlin _,_ for _saving_ my _life!_ Let me go _squander it_ because I’m too _manly_ (here Merlin’s voice rose to a piercing shriek, and Leon winced) to stay in bed and _heal._ No, _Merlin,_ my brain nearly turned to pudding today, _but I’m completely fine!”_

Merlin paused to take a breath, and Leon wondered faintly if this is what it felt like to be Arthur, “Yes, _Leon,_ the bards will truly sing songs of your _greatness._ ‘Sir Leon, felled by the sun, laughed at by all, _grateful to none!”_

The knight closed his eyes in despair. Gaius, bless his lizardy old heart, heard the racket from outside the chambers and came rushing in as quickly as his legs could move. 

“Just _what_ are you _doing,_ Merlin??” The old man snapped at his apprentice. Merlin, whose face had turned a particularly interesting shade of pink once Gaius walked in, pointed an accusing finger towards Leon. 

“Don’t blame _me! He’s_ the one trying to leave!” It was here Leon knew he was doomed. No one, be they pauper or prince, left Gauis’s healing chambers without his say-so. He sighed and looked longingly towards the chamber door. Perhaps sensing a possible escape, Gaius moved to close it and block his only chance of cool pillows and soft beds and no yelling servants with big blue eyes and too much goodness for their own sakes. 

“Well, that is quite enough of that. Merlin, Arthur has called for you. Something about a missing horse…?” Leon had the treat of watching Merlin’s face go stark white, then watched as the boy (he _was_ a _boy,_ Arthur, don’t get him involved in these things, he’s too young and pure) protested, 

“That was only partially my fault, and, besides, Hengroen wanted a chance to explore the wilderness! I only helped a poor horse with dreams of the outside world get a chance to escape our _shared cruel master_ and spread his wings!” Merlin then added with a thoughtful look on his face, “He didn’t have wings when you saw him last, right? That might be more difficult to explain.”

Leon was just _so_ lost, and he wanted his head to stop hurting. He gave up on trying to make sense of the cruel world and just turned over and went to sleep, but not before Merlin went racing out of the physician’s chambers, banging the door with an “Oops! Sorry!” as he went. 

What had he done to so offend the sense of righteousness in the world? Sure, there was that one time he had stolen his sister’s blanket, but he had been _three!_ You can’t expect a toddler to have an inherent sense of right and wrong, no matter how _knightly_ they would become in the future! Leon decided, with an air of injured pride, that the moment he escaped from Gaius’s chambers, he would set about making sure _no one_ talked about this, _ever again._

  
  


Except they did, and it was _hell_ . Something Leon _hadn’t_ counted on was how his fair skin would react to being in direct sunlight for hours on end. Staring into the mirror in his chambers (he had finally been released a day later, with a stern warning not to overexert himself, and to come back once a day for a general healing draught), the best and brightest of Camelot resigned himself to his fate, for his face was nearly as red as his own ginger locks were.

Still, he had responsibilities to attend to, not the least of which a Council meeting. Sighing, and shrugging on his mail and cape (which he would belatedly realize with a deep and burning frustration was also red), Leon stepped outside of his chambers, only for the castle to lose its collective mind.

Servants crashed into each other, sending laundry flying and food to splatter across the ground. Noblemen craned their heads to get a better look, and Leon was pretty sure he saw Lord Elberry trip down the stairs headfirst. Children took one look at him and cried, causing mothers to clutch them to their breasts and _glare_ at him, _as if this was his idea._

When he finally (finally) stepped into the Councilroom, expecting that, at least here, amongst the company of nobles bred to be polite and decent and _not mentioning his face,_ he would be free from the torment, the massive room went totally silent. 

Arthur, leaning over to speak with Uther, parchment in his hands, blinked and dropped the precious document on the table, right into a puddle of ink knocked over by Lord Garrus’s sudden standing to get a look at Leon. As with everything in Leon’s life nowadays, it was complete and utter chaos, and _he’d had enough._

“Pardon me, milord, but I don’t believe I am feeling terribly well all of a sudden. If you’ll excuse me?” For the first time in his life, Leon didn’t wait for a direct dismissal or command from his king, and left the room, cape sweeping behind him.

His head started pounding anew, and his face under the beard starting itching _madly_ , and Leon was going to take his horse and run away from all of this. All of _them._ He _didn’t deserve this._

“Sir Leon!” For just the second time in his life, Leon ignored a direct summons from the king. Pretending like he didn’t hear his name being called (what had his life _come_ to?), the knight took longer and longer strides, until he was practically jogging, but to no avail. 

He had just rounded the bend of the hall near the kitchens, when he had to stop short to avoid crashing into the short woman waiting there. Had she been waiting there to-to _pounce_ on him like he was _fresh meat?_ He tried stepping around her, with no such luck.

“Oh, me poor dearie, let me have a look at you!”

The head cook in Uther Pendragon’s kitchens was Bess, and despite her short stature, when she wanted something, she got it. Fiercer than a dragon (and Leon should know, considering _he fucking fought one_ ) but also unnaturally fond of small, cute things (something Leon could never understand, considering part of her profession was _cooking_ those small, cute things). Except Merlin, for some reason, as evidenced by the way she screeched like a banshee whenever he entered her kitchens.

Leon was-he _was not small,_ or _cute._ He was a _knight of Camelot, and-_ get your hands _off_ ! Before he could make a move to dodge around the cook (for such a small thing, she was lightning-quick), his face was being tugged down by two tiny, fleshy hands. Was she-was she _cooing at him?_ Bess pulled his face all the way down to her level, at least two and a half heads down, until he was nearly entirely bent over. She started peering into his eyes, patting his cheeks, and hissing whenever she found a particularly red spot on his face.

“Ah, don’t you worry me love, I’ve got just the thing for this!” The cook murmured gently, patting Leon’s face softly. Out of the corner of his eye, Leon saw Uther approaching, and, extricating himself as kindly as he could manage from the cook’s grip, said,

“No, thank you, my...milady, but I must be off. So kind of you to think of me, really, but-but I have urgent...Knight business to attend to, yes.” Look, it wasn’t a smooth extraction, but when you’ve got a king bearing down on you _after you rudely left a Council meeting without his say-so_ , you make do with what you’ve got.

Bess tutted at him, then, as he made his escape, shouted down the hall to him, “I’ll have Mary send it up to your chambers, then?”

Leon grimaced, and strode away quickly. He _was not running, away,_ damnit, just….making a _tactical retreat._ Just as he was about to make his escape out the castle doors, into the town square (where this whole fucking _mess_ had started), a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and he startled hard. His head started banging mercilessly again, and suddenly passing out again honestly didn’t seem so bad. 

“Sir Leon,” a stern voice said, and Leon tried his best not to groan, “I heard from Gaius that you had a...small _mishap_ the other day. Are you alright?” 

Leon’s heart lifted. _Finally,_ someone who _got it,_ and had actual _concern for him._ Finally, someone _of class,_ who had been trained as he had, _to not laugh at-_ Oh. Leon’s eyes lifted to trace Uther’s face, and saw the way the king’s eyes were crinkling up at the sides, eyes dancing, and the smile that was tugging at his normally stern and severe lips. Oh, _hell no._ Even the _king_ had only come to poke fun. Scratch that, the king had-had _abandoned the Council meeting,_ just so he could _chase Leon down and laugh at him._

Leon, not for the first time in his life, fervently wished for that dragon to come back and eat him whole. He bowed respectfully, face aflame (and not just from the sunburn), conveniently knocking Uther’s restraining hands (had the man _pinned him_ to get a _better look?_ Leon’s thought processes were at their breaking point, shrieking and gibbering madly in a dusty corner) off in the process. 

He tried for wry humor, but fell somewhere in between deep despair and horrified acceptance that this was his new life. 

“Rumours of my tragic demise have been greatly exaggerated, my lord.” He wasn’t sure if the joke landed, until Uther chuckled warmly, and something in the knight told him that this was the time _to get away._ He coughed delicately, and screwed his face up in a grimace. 

“However, sire, was there anything you required of me?” Here Leon tried to look as if he was moments from death, was about to collapse of a brutal stab wound, had suddenly come down with a severely contagious form of the measles, _anything_ that would save him from this _indignity._

“My apologies, sire, it is only that I am suddenly not feeling up to par. However, if you need me-” Uther waved him off, and turned away, shoulders shaking hard. Leon decided not to look too closely, and scampered off as quickly as he could.

The moment his foot hit stone outside the archway Uther had _trapped him in,_ Leon could hear riotous snorting and guffawing and _giggling_ behind him. The less said about that, the better. He should have drowned himself in the fountain while he had the chance. 

As he walked further into the courtyard, though, and made his way down to the gardens where this had all started, where he knew of a shortcut to his rooms ( _why_ hadn’t he just gone straight to his chambers, where he could have _died happily_ on the cool stone floor?), the knight straightened up. 

True, his face burned like he’d been snorting stinging nettles (Sir Bors was an _idiot,_ bless that man’s dumbass heart), and he could still hear ringings in his ear where Merlin had done his damned best to make him deaf earlier, and, sure, the children kept screaming when they looked his way, but the sun was shining gently, and the wind was blowing, and the roses had never smelled sweeter.

Leon sighed, shaking off tension like water off a duck’s feathers ( _damnit, Merlin)._ He bent over to smell a particularly well shaped flower, when Gwaine and Merlin passed by, nattering on about smelly socks and pompous lords, and, of all things, barmaid aprons dunked in fish oil (Leon was _not_ going to ask, he’d had enough, done, _end of fucking story_ ). 

Merlin beamed when he caught sight of Leon, though, and dragged Gwaine over to say hello. 

Leon stiffened, all previous relaxation gone, and he eyed Gwaine warily, too aware of the jokes he was no doubt forming in his _evil, evil head. Really,_ why did Arthur allow Merlin to even _associate_ with Sir Gwaine. Another, more hysterical voice asked why Merlin had- _he had a goddamn motherfucking hickey on his neck, Arthur was a dead man-_

_“So, turns out gingers can get even redder, eh Leon?”_ Forget Arthur. Gwaine was going to go down with the dubious honor of being the first person drowned in Uther’s brand fucking new fountain.

Gwaine was lucky Leon had an aversion to seeing Merlin cry (those big blue eyes got watery and dark and _sad_ and Leon folded like a stack of wet cards) _So lucky,_ because that’s the only reason he still had his damn head. 

It had nothing at all to do with Merlin yanking on his arm ineffectually and pouting up at him. Nothing at all. It had even less to do with Leon noticing the _trail of lovebites down Merlin’s neck._ Arthur was a _pervert_ , and obviously _incapable_ of _caring properly_ for his young manservant, and Leon was going to scoop Merlin up in a blanket and ride them away on his valiant steed, far away from this _insanity._

Finally, once everything had settled down, and Leon was nice and calm again (and Gwaine was gasping for breath most satisfyingly not four feet from him, a handful of knights watching Leon warily as if to make sure he didn’t come over to finish the job), Merlin led him to Gaius’s chambers for the sunbalm, scolding Leon all the way. 

Leon only listened with one ear, his brain preoccupied with fantasies of picking Arthur up by the scruff like a damned tomcat and dunking him in icy water to cool his apparent incessant _nibbling on Merlin_ like he was some kind of _exotic delicacy._ Merlin rubbed one of said bites gingerly, blushing a deep pink, and Leon looked for the nearest window to put his head through, ignoring Merlin’s attempts to pull him away from any glass or sharp objects. 

He didn’t deserve this, _this wasn’t his mess, why_ couldn’t Arthur be anything but a horny little bastard with a mind dirtier than Gwaine’s mouth (and now Leon’s hands itched to finish the job they’d started. Gwaine’s hair was far too dry. It probably had lice. Best to help him out there with a good dunking, there’s a lad). 

Leon stopped dead in his tracks, turned around, and started marching directly for his chambers, damn the balm, and tugging Merlin along with him. He was going to sit Merlin down, explain the ways of men (and possessive, horny men with egos the size of Uther’s _backside_ at that), tie the servant to a chair, and finally, _finally_ get to sleep under cool sheets and soft pillows. And so it was (if Arthur was going to kill him for kidnapping his manservant and teaching him how to avoid the prince’s _filthy clutches,_ Leon was getting some rest first).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Leon. Hope this scratched anyone's itch for Leon The Long Suffering. It was fun to write, and poor Leon is just so protective of Merlin's virtue and innocence. He has no idea what goes on in Arthur's chambers. :D


End file.
